


The High Note

by gaytriangle



Series: My True Love Gave To Me... [11]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Music, F/F, First Kiss, Song fic, bonding about your awful ex, copious Irish music references, flirting via song, technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 19:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17127623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaytriangle/pseuds/gaytriangle
Summary: Elia Martell absolutely, one hundred percent, cannot play the flute. It’s up to Lyanna Stark, renowned boyfriend thief, to point this out and save the ears of everyone involved.The kiss was never the plan.





	The High Note

Lyanna remembered the first time she met Elia after the Rhaegar debacle painfully well. She was impossible to miss. Half of the music corridor had been hastily evacuated when the Dornish beauty cracked open her less than beautiful flute playing. At the time, band had been the one thing that kept Lyanna sane. She could fiddle with the best of them. Elia couldn’t. 

When she pushed open the door- and god, the din was so much worse with it open!- she saw the southern beauty’s frenzied fingers flying over what was probably an excellent concert worthy flute under someone else’s hand. It took her a moment to realise who this was. Rhaegars other girl was sitting in Lyannas band room, playing the flute like it was her last day on earth. 

Lyanna coughed. Elia stilled, then began to laugh. “I should have known it would be you. It always is, isn’t it, Lya?” The dornish ladys voice did funny things to her stomach. It was undoubtedly bitter, but even at her worst she still had the sweetness that had brought Rhaegar crashing into her orbit. Lyanna felt her northern awkwardness keenly in that moment, but she forced herself to sit down on the opposite bench. 

“This is the music corridor, Elia. I’m still in charge here.” Elias laugh was as striking as the cymbals on the wall as she shook her head. “You’re in charge everywhere, ice queen.” 

Lyanna frowned, fiddling with the end of her long, dark plait. Elia hissed at the confusion on her face. “You’re allowed rise above. You went for Rhaegar, and I’m the one that somehow ended up blamed. Only one of us gets judged here.”

Lyannas eyes widened, and the words tumbled out faster than she could think of them. “They call me the dragons bitch. I didn’t even have the decency to stick around for him, apparently.”

Elia raised an eyebrow, judged her sincere, and then snorted. It was the first time Lyanna had even heard her sound unladylike. “Like anyone could ever make him stick around.”

Lyanna nodded energetically, but then they were stuck in stifling silence. She gestured to the flute instead. “You been playing long?”

“I think you can tell I haven’t.” She held her flute lovingly, but cautiously. There was no sign of wear and tear that even the most cautious of musicians would have developed with practise. Lyanna hummed an affirmative. “You sing, don’t you? Why the flute?” 

Elia huffed, tossing her dark curls back impetuously. “Rhaegar loved my singing and hated the Dornish instruments.” She paused, for several seconds, distrust in her eyes. Lyanna moved to share her bench without thinking. “I needed something he hadn’t touched.”

After a short, thoughtful silence, Elia returned the question. Lyanna shrugged, gesturing to a dark fiddle leaning against its case on the back wall. “Northern music is all jigs and reels, music to keep you moving. It kept me steady since I was a kid. Plus, the songs are simple enough that even my voice can’t screw them up.”

Elia seemed amused at that, and her smile was like a clear note cutting through the cacophony Lyanna had been hearing non stop for months. When she asked for a taste of her song, the northerner didn’t know how to refuse. Instead, she struck up one of the old tunes that her mother claimed to have learned from her own mother, the wild Arya Flint. She picked up her violin, too, while she was at it, and hurried back to sit just across from Elia, who had moved into a full grin. 

“I love my love and well she knows,  
I love the ground whereon she goes,  
I wish the day it soon would come,  
When she and I could be as one,”  


She began, cheeks quickly colouring when she noted how Elias posture changed when the first _she_ was used. Starks were not known for subtlety. Lyannas voice managed not to shake, though, and her fiddle was indeed superb, so she was quickly encouraged to move onto the chorus. Her eyes drifted back to the strings and away from the other girls before she could tell exactly what was in her heated eyes, and then she hit the chorus. 

“Black is the colour of my true love’s hair  
Her lips are like some roses fair  
She has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands-“

At that, Lyanna was interrupted by Elia, who lifted the bow away from the strings with all the tenderness of a mother. Lyanna whined for a second, confused, and then her hands were on her shoulders and pulling them closer. Her heartbeat was beating a crescendo, and the cold northern girl crossed the last distance between them herself in a heated kiss. It was soon Elia whining, wrapping her arms around Lyannas neck. She responded by pushing the violin down the bench and carding her fingers through the other woman’s curls. They were even silkier than she imagined. When the pair broke apart after far too short a time, gasping for air, Lyannas significantly hoarser voice spoke the final line. 

“And I love the ground whereon she stands.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is not where I expected to end this fic, but I’m okay with it. Did I do it justice?


End file.
